


Shrink the Picture Down

by NotLaura



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 5+1, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLaura/pseuds/NotLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: 5 People who liked Carol’s cookies, and one who wasn’t sure about the taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shrink the Picture Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlannasTara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/gifts).



**1 - Reg**

_(People Are Tricky)_

The night the new group arrives, he finds Deanna in her study. In flannel pajamas and a belted housecoat, there’s no trace of the apocalypse in the picture she presents. The papers in front of her may not be budgets or campaign speeches, but she stares at them over her reading glasses with the same determined focus that got her elected every time.

He rests his hands on her shoulders, lightly rubbing at the tension there as she rests her head against his wrist. It’s a position they’ve been in a thousand times, and Reg can’t help but smile into her hair, revelling in the simple comfort of her presence. 

She’s all business within a moment, returning to her lists and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“How many uncategorized?” He knows her system, has seen this process. She’s reviewed her interview videos and is meticulously documenting her thoughts on the newcomers. What jobs they would be suited for, how trusted they should be; Deanna would break it all down before placing any of them. 

“Three,” she says without pause, her attention not wavering from her lists as Reg settles down in a nearby armchair. “Maggie. Farmer’s daughter and college student. Married since the turn, to Glenn. I’m not sure yet, but I think I want to keep her close.” 

He knows better than to question her, he hasn’t watched the interviews, has made only the basest judgments of these people. If Deanna thinks there’s more to the young woman than meets the eye, he trusts that. 

“Sasha. Firefighter. Lost her brother recently, her lover just before that.” 

“Poor girl,” his sympathy is genuine, though Deanna doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“She’s grieving, but there’s something more going on there. I don’t know if she’s breaking, or if she’s still putting herself back together. Either way, I’d like to keep her inside the walls for now. She’s not ready for runs, despite her skills.” 

“And the third? The gentleman with the roadkill friend?” 

She shakes her head. “Worried he won’t fit in here, pulling away before he’s rejected. Caretaker, above all. He was easy to figure out.” 

“Who’s the holdout, then?” 

“Carol. Widowed housewife.” 

That surprises him, and Reg looks up from his book to regard the slope of his wife’s shoulders. “Really? How come? I spoke with her, she came across very straightforward.” 

“Too straightforward,” Deanna warns. “There was something that just didn’t click, something I just can’t put my finger on.” 

“Are you sure you’re not looking for problems where there are none?” They’d done this before, challenged each other to justify a conclusion. Intellectual curiosity bred a stronger argument. 

“I might be,” she admits, nothing resigned or combative in her tone. “She was friendly and warm and so thankful to be here, it makes me wonder…” 

“Sometimes, people are who they seem.” 

She regards him, a conflict in her eyes that she hides from everyone else. Tough and shrewd and intelligent in ways he hadn’t truly appreciated until the world had ended, he knows there’s a vulnerability inside she fights. He’s never considered his wife to be anything short of brilliant, but he’d considered their playing field to be equal, once. Now she fights for her family instead of her constituents, but Reg would never bet against her instincts. 

“No,” Deanna says after a pause, shaking her head only once. “Not anymore.”

 

**2- Aidan**

_(You Can’t Afford to Show)_

“She’s kinda MILF-y” Spencer shrugs.

Aidan snorts. “That one’s a GILF, if anything. You into grandma-fucking, bro?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Now, Maggie? That’s a tappable ass.” 

“She’s married, Aidan.” 

His respect for their union is obvious in his eyeroll and Spencer can’t help but shake his head, turning his attention back to the woman strolling down the street with a casserole. He’s willing to appreciate a pert ass, despite how unflattering her slacks are. 

He’s got eyes, after all.

 

**3 - Olivia**

_(Anything Risky)_

“You outdid yourself with this rabbit casserole, honey.” Mr. Miller beams at her from his chair on the porch and Olivia smiles brightly. 

“I wish I could take credit, but this one wasn’t me.” Intentionally vague, she hopes the conspiratorial note is obvious in her eyes.

Mr. Miller takes the bait, exactly as she knew he would. “Oh? Who’s the new Julia Child of Alexandria, then?” 

“One of the group Aaron and Eric just brought back,” She says easily, adjusting her hold on the rest of her deliveries. “Her name is Carol, lovely woman, lost her husband and daughter early on in things and has been along with that group ever since.” 

“Poor dear,” Mr. Miller acknowledges, rocking his chair. “What did she do, before?” 

“Oh, I’d hate to gossip,” Olivia lies smoothly. She loves to gossip, it’s her favourite thing to do. “But from what I understand she was a homemaker. Did the cooking and cleaning for the rest of them, while they were out there.” 

Mr. Miller’s eyebrows raise. “Just a homemaker and she survived out there all this time? Goodness.” 

“The rest of them took care of her,” Olivia promises. “They’re a very capable group, several who will be joining Aidan on runs and others to help protect us. They kept her alive out there, and now she’s safe in here with us.” 

Mr. Miller nods, a somewhat pensive expression on his face and Olivia doesn’t like. It doesn’t play into her narrative, doesn’t help establish just how lucky Carol is that they’ve found her, that she can get tucked nicely up under Olivia’s wing and help with the day to day in Alexandria. She’s been tight-lipped about the rest of her group so far, but Olivia has never had trouble getting information from anyone before, she doubts Carol will be where that starts. 

“I’ll remember to tell her you enjoyed the casserole,” she promises, patting Mr. Miller’s shoulder with a smile. “I’m sure the compliment will be appreciated.”

 

**4 - Tobin**

_(Anything they don't know)_  

“Any reason you’re staring a hole through the door?” 

Tobin blinks, he hadn’t realized how long he’d been focused in that direction until Francine calls him out. “No, not really.” 

He’s never been a very good liar, and Francine’s the type to see right through his bullshit. She rolls her eyes and gives him a skeptical look. “Right. You’re just admiring the woodwork.” She doesn’t bother acknowledging his frown at her blithe sarcasm. “Nothing to do with the fact the guests of honor for this party aren’t here yet.” 

Tobin sighs, he should have known the moment he made his offer that Olivia would have that all over town before lunch. “She seems like a nice lady,” he shrugs, not bothering to play ignorant. “I wouldn’t want her to get into trouble because she isn’t comfortable around a gun.” 

“And you’re a regular deadshot with yours,” Francine laughs, shaking her head slightly. “If your motives were entirely altruistic you’d have sent her to Aidan or Nicholas, Tob. If you want to cozy up to the nice widow, go for it. Just maybe be a little smoother than standing here staring at the door.” 

“I don’t really remember how,” he admits. It’s been a long time, and even inside the safety of Alexandria it’s not like there’s an easy way to express an interest in getting to know someone better. He can’t remember the last time he tried to date a woman… years before the world changed. But there had been something in Carol’s smile, in the enthusiastic but still careful way she’d been with Olivia that morning… He’s hardly a caveman, but it had stirred something in him, a need to protect. 

Francine just laughs again, and claps him on the back. “Just relax, talk to her, don’t be all broody and intense. Nobody likes that guy. That guy doesn’t get cuddly with the floral sweater crowd.” 

“Relax. Don’t brood. Got it.” 

The door opens then, and she comes in with the new constable and his children. She’s smiling, and Tobin’s stomach flips a little, a persistent reminder that dating makes him feel like he’s in high school all over again. 

But Carol’s carrying a plate of cookies and greeting Deanna so warmly that he’s starting to feel pretty sure it would be worth the embarrassment, if he could get to know her better. 

 

**5 - Ron**

_(The Moment You Try)_  

“Carl says you were hanging around their house again today, brat.” 

Sam frowns at his brother, but his insistence that he’s not a brat is cut off when Ron continues without acknowledging him. 

“The cookie lady isn’t going to make you treats forever, yknow. You’ll pester her until she tells you to go away.” 

Sam wants to say Carol isn’t like that. He wants to say that she tells him to go away but he feels so much safer around her that he can’t. He wants to tell Ron that she’s different, that she’s not afraid like their mom is and that she can help them. 

“Just leave her alone, Sammy, she doesn’t have time for you.” 

Ron’s already leaving, dismissing anything Sam could say in defense and he frowns down at his sneakers, wishing, not for the first time, that he was bigger than he is. 

Big enough that someone would believe him.

**+1 - Eric**

_(Well, Kiss it Goodbye)_  

Eric’s eyes are drawn to Aaron immediately. Amidst the chaos of deaths and danger and ranting, seeing him standing there, safe and unhurt, brings a level of calm to his scattered thoughts. 

He makes his way over, and when they embrace, Aaron sags against him with relief Eric can feel seeping through everything else. Showing that kind of vulnerability takes strength, it's a testament to the love they have for each other that even while people are screaming and weeping and yelling at each other, the simple pleasure of being reunited safely relaxes them both. 

It’s been a fucked up day, an even more fucked up night, but all of that bleeds away when he feels Aaron’s arms around his torso. Eric takes a moment, shuts out the sounds around him and presses his face into Aaron’s shoulder. For the space of heartbeats, he lets it just be them and nobody else. 

Inevitably, reality crashes in and he takes a deep breath and steps out of the embrace, ready to face the societal breakdown going on around them. 

He only sees them because he’d turn his face away from the others when he pressed into Aaron’s jacket. He only notices because neither of them think he’s looking, but when Eric sees the way Carol steps into Daryl’s personal space, he can’t look away. 

She lifts her hand to his face, brushing his hair out of the way and pressing her palm to his cheek. That, in and of itself, is hardly monumental. He’s pegged Carol for a caretaker since before they made contact with the group out there on the road, a role she’s settled comfortably into since they’d come inside the walls. 

What he sees between them isn’t the simple relief of family returning alive. 

Daryl’s eyes never leave Carol’s face, there’s nothing defensive in his stance and Eric sees an entirely different woman standing there with him. Fragments of scenes and memories and moments he’s witnessed and cast off seem to come together and he realizes he’s seen hints of this Carol, before. This Carol is strong and capable and would do anything for those she cares about. This Carol has the weight of grief and loss and tragedy on her shoulders, all covered by a determination to protect. 

He can almost see the way she steps back into her act, as she steps away from Daryl and lets her hand fall from his face. Their eyes stay locked for another moment before she strides away, kneeling at Jessie’s side and taking the weeping woman into her arms with the kind of fraught expression that says she has no idea what to do other than comfort. 

It’s that shift that tells Eric he was wrong, that he has no idea who Carol Peletier is and when he looks back at Daryl he’s met with a stony look that tells him this is all intentional. 

Eric trusts Daryl with protecting the person he loves most in this world. 

Daryl’s look is asking him to do the same in return.

 

**_And from behind the screen_**

**_It can look so perfect_ **

**_But it's not_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are "It's Not" by Aimee Mann. Stolen from a Caryl playlist by Gracefull mess on youtube, who makes amazing videos that you should all go and watch. Massive thanks to Lamport for the beta!


End file.
